Sherlock Light and shade
by My Benediction
Summary: London is caught in a heatwave. Rated M for sexy times, M/M action, Johnlock. You know the drill.
1. Chapter 1

First many thanks to TSylvestrisA for reading over this and giving me pointers. I wrote this when we had our only week of British sunshine and the heat does not always help my own brain. ;)

We always see Sherlock in the rain and fog and drizzle, which I admit is basically my countrys weather, but just occasionally we get the sun.

This was my insparation. Yet another Johnlock for you. ;)

Hope you enjoy. x

Part one - Heat.

It was hot. The British weather, being what it was, had gone from freezing in mid-May to a sudden and desperate heatwave as the country edged into June. The unending deluge of cold rain had abruptly given up its fight and the sun had burned its way into the sky. Any breath of relief had disappeared as every cold front turned itself outward and away from blighty's battered shores and now blew pleasantly elsewhere. Anywhere but Britain.

It wasn't that John didn't like the sun, it was just that most of the country had been wrapped in thick coats and scarves and boots on Monday and now it was Thursday. The country had not adjusted well. He had just treated his third heat-stricken child in four days and was quite concerned for his elderly patients.

In the last two days, he had not seen one person in London who was not sweating, who was not looking harassed by the constant heat or had some kind of complaint about it. That was, until he had got past the door of 221B the previous night. Sherlock had not been sweating, had not been harassed or complaining. Well, not complaining of the heat, anyway. He had been sprawled on the sofa in the lounge, not one ruffled hair out of place, not one bead of sweat on his alabaster brow, wearing a tight blue day suit and a crisp white shirt. He had looked up lazily as John had walked in, sticky and annoyed, and had stretched and grinned.

"Good day?" he'd drawled out in that insufferably amused voice of his as he looked John up and down. The doctor, despite having almost unending patience, could not find it in him to answer and had instead just glared whilst wondering if Sherlock was human at all.

The fact that the detective was seemingly untouched by the heat annoyed John in ways he couldn't explain. It was really just not fair. He realized that sounded childish but just once, just once he'd like to see his annoyingly perfect, aesthetically pleasing, ludicrously beautiful flatmate compromised. Something deep inside John wanted to see Sherlock break a sweat. He wanted to see that pale skin glisten, to admire the wetness of his curls as they stuck to the nape of his neck and forehead. He wanted, somewhat sadistically, Sherlock to suffer as the rest of London was suffering. He wanted Sherlock to suffer as he did.

But that was just a dream, a far-flung fantasy. John knew that Sherlock Holmes did not work the same as other people. His cold heart presumably ensured his skin remained cool even on days such as this. He'd probably trained his body to repel heat in some way. John snorted at the thought.

The doctor's mind turned to other thoughts. He knew that really he should have been pleased by the heatwave. It bought out the summer frocks, the girls looking so delicious in their skimpy clothes and floral dresses, but somehow these days John didn't really notice or care.

He had known for several months that he was deeply and unrequitedly attracted to his mad flatmate, his partner in crime and punishment. The reason he wanted to see Sherlock sweat was so that he could imagine that it was he himself who had caused it. Oh yes, John Watson would like to make the detective sweat. He'd like to make him beg and scream out his name in the throes of passion. That would be just fine.

But since the detective had always made it clear he had no interest in relationships and John was fairly convinced the man was asexual, John struggled to put aside those thoughts. It would never happen. But in the privacy of his own mind, in the dark privacy of his room he found he always came harder if when in the grip of self-pleasuring he thought of what he would like to do to Sherlock. Sometimes he even whispered his name. What harm could that do?

Leaving work that evening, John hit the hot pavement and groaned. Could he really be bothered to walk? It was after five and the sun was still burning brightly. It had just got that little bit too low and glared into John's eyes as he walked. The cars and buses and taxis streamed past, kicking up dust and creating even more humidity. John attempted to hail a cab but it seemed most of London had given up the fight and had had the same idea.

Ah, well, at least it was Friday. John could relax tomorrow, open every window in the flat, spend all day in the shower, go on a case with Sherlock...John groaned as the thought hit him. Sadly, the latter option seemed the more likely. He knew Sherlock was bored and had probably been pestering Lestrade for a case all day. Running in this weather-not at all what John wanted to think about.

Finally John turned the corner to Baker Street and reveled in the quietness of the road. No gunshots, no explosions, no people running around shouting about a madman. Sherlock must have a case. Taking a deep breath and pausing by the door of 221B for a moment, John enjoyed a moment of peace and gathered himself. Who knew what awaited him inside the flat? Sighing gently, he turned the key and opened the door. The heat gathered in the house hit him instantly. God, it was hotter inside than out. Shutting the door, he trudged up the stairs to the flat, listening briefly at the door and hearing nothing. He opened it and blinked at the scene before him.

The great detective Sherlock Holmes was lying prone on the sofa. The TV was on and an excited weather presenter was talking fast about how hot it was. It was now nearly 98 degrees, but that wasn't what made John's mouth fall open.

The detective was dressed-well, maybe dressed wasn't the right word-in only his boxers. His dressing gown was half draped around his shoulders but that had been flung open to show off his chest and abs and everything else to whomever might be looking. His hair was wild, the hairline wet. The usually immaculate black curls stuck to his face and forehead, and a thin layer of perspiration gleamed on his skin in the fading light.

John gaped and to his utter mortification his groin give a strong throb of approval. God damn, the man looked mouth-watering.

He felt ashamed of himself. He had wanted this, and now that he saw it he wanted it more, but Sherlock must be suffering for he hadn't moved since John had walked in. John took a few steps into the flat, trying to suppress the stirring in his loins.

"Sherlock?" he asked cautiously, trying to keep all traces of desire from his voice. The detective cracked open one eye and looked at him, and he felt his heart stutter slightly. It was a dangerous, feral look and somehow it made John feel hotter than he already was. In more ways than one.

"John," the detective growled in half-greeting.

"Are...are you all right?" John asked. Sherlock rolled onto his side, his other eye opening to fix the doctor with a dangerous glare, his gown slipping further from his shoulders.

"Do I look all right, John?" he asked in a low voice.

Oh yes, John thought, you look more than all right, but he pushed the thought aside and settled on taking the medical approach. "Well, you look hot, and it's just appalling up here. Heat sickness, maybe?" he asked. Sherlock licked his lips, watching John closely. Then he leapt up in a sudden flash and began pacing.

"I can't think, John. I can't think. My brain will not work under these conditions. Things...things happen to me when it gets this hot. Make it stop, John. Make the heat go away and let me think! How can anyone work like this, how can you live like this? Is your brain still working, John? After all, it has less capacity than mine. Does it just stutter and give out or have you got some clever way to stop that from happening?" The detective was ranting. His dressing gown flew wildly about him, sticking to his lithe body for brief seconds and then flying back off.

John swallowed hard. The overheated detective glared at him with wild eyes and then was stalking towards him. He stopped only inches away from the doctor and looked down at John's blue eyes in frustration. His brows were knitted and his sudden burst of energy had not helped in cooling him.

This close, John could smell him, could feel the heat radiating from that slender body mixing with his own. Sherlock's own chest was moving rapidly and John could see the beating of his heart as he glanced down briefly at the man's bare torso. John felt his own breath hitch. He was hot and getting hotter, but it wasn't the weather that was causing his sudden soaring temperature.

John could feel Sherlock's breath on his face. The scent radiating from the detective set his nerve endings quivering, engulfing every sense: iron and sea salt and chemicals that oozed out of every pore. Sherlock's wild eyes burned into him, making John almost forget himself. He knew his eyes flickered to that perfect bow of a mouth that was so close yet so far away and...

"John.." Sherlock grated out suddenly, jolting John out of his brief but far too lingering look. "I.. this.. it..."

Sherlock was stumbling over his words? John took a cautious step back.

"Sherlock," he said, as casually as he could, "you're just hot. Look, I'll make you a drink and then I'd suggest you take a cold shower and just try and relax. You'll be fine." He moved quickly away from his flatmate and ducked into the kitchen. He let out the breath he'd been holding and then got Sherlock some cool water. He barely heard Sherlock enter the room behind him as he tried to calm his body's very disconcerting responses.

OoOoOoOo


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks must goto my wonderful beta TSylvestrisA, who keeps me on track and stops me doing stupid things.

Thank you for the lovely comments on this and I will be in touch with you all soon. Had a busy week and been ill so sorry for not answering, I always try and answer all comments. The comments I have recieved have been so lovely and have kept my spirts up on a truely rubbish week. Thank you again.

Onward ho!

Part two - First kiss.

Sherlock leant against the door frame and watched the doctor silently, the detectives body prickled with heat. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his face and neck. It tickled gloriously.

Sherlock was damned; he had known as much the evening before. The heat had been building steadily and as much as he had enjoyed watching John suffer he had known that if the sun burned down harder eventually he too would succumb. Today was that day. He could feel his brain struggling to function through the white humid mist that had descended over it, his logic unreachable today. It had already been teetering on the edge anyway when it came to one subject: John Watson.

John had got under the detective's skin. Sherlock knew it, and he knew that he was under and all over John's. He could read it in the doctor's face, in his movements and mannerisms, the way his pulse had jumped when Sherlock had called his name, the way his eyes had just dilated.

Sherlock wondered if John knew that he was not the only one to have those physical desires. He had thought it was folly at first. He had cursed his own body and shrugged off the effects as undesirable instinct. The work was what mattered. But then again, John was his work, was integral to it, and now today, his usual self-control stretched tight and his unreasonable, irrepressible need to mate at an all-time high, Sherlock thought that it was quite possible that today would be the day John found out just how important he considered John to that work.

The sun had always been a chink in Sherlock's armor. When he was younger he had noted his sudden irrational need to be with someone when the sun shone brightly. He'd learned to repress it, but it had been difficult and taken time. It wasn't as though the detective had ever met anyone worthy enough to bestow such desires upon, anyway.

But then he had met John. Wonderful, beautiful John Watson, brave and fearless and loyal from the outset, the man who had been and would always be at his side. Sherlock had known from the moment John's eyes had met his over the police tape after the cabbie had been shot that the man who had just saved his life would never leave him, would never hurt him. Would probably love him.

John turned back from the refrigerator, glass of chilled water in hand. He jumped as he saw the detective, a little of the water splashing down his hand and over his wrist.

"Jesus, Sherlock!" he spluttered. With a slightly shaky hand, John hastily handed the glass to him. A little more spilled and the detective made an uncharacteristic hiss as the cold water touched his hot skin. Stimulation, it was everywhere.

John moved quickly away from his housemate and shrugged off his work jacket. He hated having to wear it in such conditions, Sherlock knew, but Sarah insisted he look vaguely smart for work. Sherlock's head tilted as he took in John's back. His shirt was sticking to the muscles there and the detective began mapping out the line he would take if he were to touch John. He wanted to trace his spine, let his fingertips pick up the hot moisture there and lick it from them. God, he wanted to taste John's heat.

Sherlock quickly downed the glass of water in one swift series of swallows and moved towards the counter where the good doctor was distracting himself by going through the paperwork in his briefcase. The detective's eyes flickered down from John's back to look unashamedly at John's fine arse. It looked fascinatingly delicious, clad in soft denim. He wanted to touch, to grasp and feel its warmth and muscle. He wanted to undress John, rip his damp shirt from his chest and pull down those soft jeans, pull that peach of an arse apart and bury himself in it.

Sherlock blinked at his own thoughts. He felt his cock twitch with strong approval. John turned and leaned against the counter opposite the over-sexed detective. He jumped as he suddenly realized just how close to him Sherlock was and the detective was looking at him.. well very oddly. John took a deep fortifying breath.

"You feel any better?" he asked. His housemate shook his head vaguely, moving ever so slightly closer to were the doctor stood. John could feel his self control begin to give. He couldn't quite work out what the detectives game today was but if he wasn't careful it would becoming something far more than he was expecting. "well.. take a shower then, a cold one. Either you go or I go because honestly Sherlock that's what I want right now." John sucked in a shaky breath as Sherlock nudged closer still "A cold shower is definitely on the menu this evening." he breathed. Sherlock tipped his head.

"We could.." he replied, his voice fast approaching breathlessness itself ".. just shower together." another step closer and John nearly came undone at the words. His breathing caught. But no, Sherlock didn't mean it in that way did he? He was looking at it from the logical position of if they both wanted a shower at he same time why not share? In his mind there would be nothing to that other than practicality. However John felt his body respond, he knew his face and chest were flushing, that his heart-rate had shot up, his pulse was throbbing in his neck. Dammit, why did Sherlock have to stand so close?

Sherlocks eyes met John's then and John started a little. Those usually pale blue green eyes had darkened, they were being swallowed up as John looked into his quickly dilating pupils. Without warning and a swift as a cat Sherlock closed the final couple of inches between them, a hand grabbed at John's wrist and the detective looked down into John's eyes, lips silently counting that racing pulse. Warning bells went off in Johns head. This was a game, it had to be. Sherlock had to be playing with him, he wouldn't.. he'd never 'want' John. The doctor made a half-hearted attempt at escape, pulling his wrist away. But Sherlock was to fast. Eyes never leaving John's the detective grabbed both of John's hands, that had made to push him back, and slammed them both down onto the surface of the counter John was against before locking his own down over the top of them. Sherlock then pressed forward into John trapping his body between the counter and his hips and chest. Both mens breathing jumped a few notches but still John could not believe it. He struggled against the detective, wriggling in an attempt to get himself free, a scowl drawn on his face as his eyes burned into the detectives own dark unwavering ones. It was then Sherlock moaned. It was a unbidden, sensual moan and John froze. His eyes widened as he felt the hardness pressing against him. John's eyes flickered down to look at Sherlocks flushed chest pressed against his own and then back into Sherlocks eyes.

"Sh.. Sherlock.. I.." Sherlock smiled suddenly and sinfully. John felt his legs actually buckle as a wave of lust hit him and then Sherlock rolled his hips and John's self control snapped. His head went back and he moaned out the months of pent up desire, a dark moan of need. John felt Sherlock shiver at the sound, those long fingers grasping now at Johns wrists, controlling him.

"John." came the baritone voice, rough and stained "I want you." John's head snapped up to look intently at his mad friend. His eyes were blown, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and ready. God, John wanted to shove his cock between those lips. There was a pause as each man drank in the sight of one another and then John pulled a hand from Sherlocks grasp. Suddenly, gently John pulled down Sherlock's head so their faces were close. The doctors lips hovered but didn't take.

"Sherlock.." John said horsely "Are you sure.. is this just the heat?" Sherlock smiled a little wryly.

"Yes." he replied with a tease edging his tone "but it happened before that. I want you John, I've wanted you a long time."

"If we do this Sherlock I doubt we can go back" John warned, eyes flitting between Sherlock's eyes and delicious mouth.

"Yes John." The detective replied in his 'it's obvious' tone, his body pressing closer in impatience.

"Wh.. what if something goes wrong?" John asked, nerves tingling.

"It won't John." Sherlock breathed "We are meant to be doctor. We are chemically compatible."

"I.. Sherlock it's just a little fast.." John's words got cut short with a whimper of desire as the detective ground suddenly against him.

"Tell me you don't want this John and I'll stop. I'll go John and we can forget it." the detective half smiled as his hips once again rolled.

"Oh.. oh God Sherlock.. no I want you I just.. have you.. have you ever..?"

"No John." Sherlock stopped his grinding and both men's movements ceased. "You'd be my first. You'd be my only." John blinked and then ran his free hand down to cup the detectives cheek.

"Your only? the doctor questioned gently.

"I will never want another John." Sherlock replied steadily "If you left I would never find another to replace John Watson. You look after me, you steady me. I do not believe you'll ever leave me.. John.." Sherlocks voice broke "please" Both mens eyes looked steadily into the others.

"So.." John said, a little confidence rising into his voice "this will be your first kiss?" Sherlocks nodded and pressed his face into Johns hand, his eyes fluttering a little with desire. "Okay.." John said "well, we'd better do something about that then hadn't we?" Sherlocks eyes burned into John's, their noses touched. Sherlock nodded again almost in-perceptively and John saw the flutter of nerves suddenly start in those clear pale eyes. "It's okay." John whispered. He gently wrapped his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck and caressed the curls there, wet with perspiration. "just follow my lead."

It took all of John's strength not to dive headlong into the kiss, he wanted to devour those lips. He couldn't believe that after all this time, after all this frustration, that Sherlock felt the same way he did. Part of him was still dubious, but Sherlock's little speech had almost persuaded him that this was indeed real. That Sherlock wanted this as much as him and already he had hinted that this would be forever. Ignoring his instincts John leaned in and covered the tiny gap between himself and Sherlock. The doctors lips brushed the detectives tentatively. Sherlocks lips were warm and soft. John felt Sherlock stiffen a little as he gently dusted his lips with soft kisses.

"Relax" he whispered. 'kiss me Sherlock." John pressed his lips a little harder against the now nervous detectives. He felt Sherlock respond uncertainly and opened his mouth fractionally to sweep the tip of his tongue across Sherlock's bottom lip and to press for him to in turn open his own. Sherlock groaned deeply as he felt the pressure against his lips and he allowed his lips to part slightly. John slipped his tongue between those lips and tasted Sherlock. He tasted Sherlock for the first and some place in John's fuzzy mind swelled with pride. No-one had ever tasted this man, he was the only one.. might be the only who ever would. The detective tasted of salt and smoke and chemical reactions and as Sherlock began to kiss John back sparks began going off in the back of johns head. Chemically compatible was an understatement. John had never felt like this from just a kiss. His body was buzzing. He thrust his tongue deeper into Sherlocks hot mouth, freeing his other hand from the detectives shaky grip. Lowering his other hand from Sherlocks hair he gripped those slim and barely covered hips and pulled the detective quickly switching their places. Sherlocks back hit the counter and John pressed in closer. A low growl was emitted from Sherlocks throat and his hands came up to cup John's face. John deepened the kiss, bit gently at the detectives bottom lip. Sherlock whimpered then and his hips gave an involuntary thrust. John smiled against his mouth as he allowed Sherlock's tongue to battle his. Finally the two men broke away breathless. Sherlock looked curiously at John. Sweat dripped from his curls. He was panting.

"John.. that was amazing." John quirked his lips.

"You know you do that out-loud?" he asked cheekily. Sherlock smirked knowingly his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Mmmmm.." he hummed, a hand stroking gently at John's cheek. "how long John?" he asked softly. John smiled.

"You already know." Sherlock tipped his head.

" I have an idea" Sherlock murmured, his fingers curiously tracing the shape of John's lips "but with you John Watson.. I am never certain. Perhaps that's what makes you so adorable." John blushed under that soft, considering voice as Sherlocks eyes now followed his fingers tracing patterns facinatedly. "I can read you.." Sherlock mused almost to himself "but you are always surprising to me. Always fascinating." the detectives eyes lifted "I think you will always fascinate me. The healer that killed to save me having known me only a few hours. The man who can put up with me and the man who can keep up with me. Your not dull like the rest." Sherlock lowered his lips then to Johns and traced them with his tongue. John could practically hear him filing away the experience and he shivered beneath the gently caress. Sherlock smiled slowly. "understand John, that my mind is rather.. fuzzy at the moment. I cannot promise to be this eloquent or flattering all of the time." John giggled against the other mans mouth. "So what do we do now John?" Sherlock asked, raising ridiculously innocent eyes to the doctors. John smirked.

"You know.." John pecked Sherlock's lips playfully "exactly" kissed his jaw "what we.." his ear "do now" whispered into that ear and the detective groaned.

"I do." he murmured back hotly "I know the principle.. but I'm not to certain about.." John chose that moment to roll his hips and Sherlock's legs buckled at the glorious pressure. John pulled the detective away from the cabinet by his hips.

"Shower" he said, taking Sherlocks hand.


	3. Chapter 3

For TSylvestrisA, I promice to email at the weekend. Been cut off in caravan all week. Apologies to my followers, this has taken far too long. Olympic hell is all I can say as an excuse, not condusive to sexy times. I hope this makes up a little for lack of postings, I am getting back on track now. Thanks all for your continued support. I would not be whole without my writing.

Some sexy times ahead, but not the full bang yet. Soon I promise... ;)

Part 3 - Up the apples and pears.

Sherlock gripped Johns hand tightly as the doctor pulled him from the kitchen and through the living room towards the stairs.

"John" the detective panted pulling back. John turned, chest heaving from the heat and the need he felt. "Want you John." Sherlock gasped pulling John to him with one easy tug of his arm. John found himself against Sherlocks bare chest his shirt sticking to the skin there, the damp heat seeping in. Sherlock wrapped his free arm about John, bending his head he captured Johns mouth with his own. The doctor melted into the kiss with a gasp. Sherlock pressed home his advantage and his tongue penetrated the doctors slightly parted lips and entered his mouth for the first time. A voice in Johns fuzzed up mind murmured that Sherlock was a very fast learner as the detectives tongue swept around the doctors mouth curiously to end up dueling with Johns own tongue. The kiss deepened gradually, long and hot and heady. John let go of Sherlocks hand and bought it up into detectives thick dark curls. He rubbed a curl between finger and thumb feeling it's softness. Ah, John had always had a thing for Sherlocks hair and now...now he could feel it, run his hands through it, grip at it. John gently pulled at the roots and Sherlock growled a little as his mouth moved against Johns. The detective slid his now free hand up to Johns neck to pluck at the buttons of his shirt. Three buttons down John pulled back from the kiss. Both men panted hotly, catching breath. John leant his forehead against Sherlocks and stilled his hand which was still trying to free him from his clothing.

"Stop Sherlock...come on. Shower." Sherlock groaned, his eyes smoldered.

"Don't need a shower John." he growled "my bedroom is closer, stairs take too much time. Want to see you..." Sherlock paused pulling his head back to look John straight in the eyes "naked". The word was more of a purr than an actual word and John felt himself weaken, his legs buckling slightly as a heavy wave of lust hit him. His heart skipped a beat as Sherlocks eyes burned into his own.

"You can see me... upstairs" John forced out horsely, gripping Sherlock once again firmly by the hand and freeing himself from the detectives arm he dragged Sherlock up the stairs with some effort. They made it six steps up before Sherlock suddenly stepped ahead of John and slammed an arm into his path. Twisting the doctors arm up and against the landing wall and gripping the other to do the same Sherlock pinned John against the wall. He stepped in close and Johns breath caught sharply.

"mmm..." Sherlock purred in his deep baritone, "I do like it when you're vulnerable John." John shot the detective a dangerous look.

"I was a solder Sherlock...don't ever forget that." he said with mock danger edging his voice.

"Uh-huh" Sherlock murmured as he lowered his mouth curiously to Johns neck "So show me what you've got then John..." he challenged as he placed a delicate kiss against Johns quickened pulse. John groaned.

"Why must there always be a game involved?" the doctor asked resignedly, wriggling slightly as Sherlocks curious mouth tasted him. Sherlock ran his tongue up Johns neck delicately causing the older man to shiver. As he reached Johns ear he pulled it gently between his teeth and whispered hotly into the shell,

"You started it John. I was happy to go to my bedroom, no games, but no...you wanted a shower. Far too far away. You can't expect me to behave myself now can you John? Do you know how long I've thought about this for?"

"Oh God..." was all John was able to manage. The way Sherlocks mind worked he would have thought of every scenario, he would have planned every move to counter Johns own. He would have explored every internet page on technique and detail and now he was ready to put the knowledge to practical use. John swallowed hard and managed to squeak "Just remember who's the experienced one here." Sherlock chuckled richly and the sound vibrated through his chest into Johns own. Pulling away from Johns ear Sherlock looked down at John fondly, that crinkled smile creasing his face.

"So show me your 'experience' John" was the low answer. John felt the challenge rise and with a sudden burst of a captured solders strength he twisted his arms free of Sherlocks gripping hands, twisted Sherlock about and neatly switched their places. Sherlock just smirked as he was pinned firmly against the wall and John had the deep suspicion that this was what he had wanted all along. Right, John thought, he wants to play lets play. Time to up the game.

The physical exertion of the last few minutes had not helped Sherlock with his 'heat sickness', and the perspiration stuck to his body slickly. As a bead of sweat ran down from Sherlocks hairline and down his face John made his first move. Leaning forward he caught the salt-sweetness on his tongue as it reached Sherlocks jawline. The doctor licked the detectives face once, the tip of his tongue following the track of salt upward, over Sherlocks slight hint of stubble, his soft cheek, his sharp cheekbone. John drank it in like nectar. As he reached Sherlocks sweat slick curls he released one of Sherlocks hands and gripped those curls a little harder then before. Sherlock moaned out Johns name as the doctor yanked his head back against the wall. Johns mouth met the soft skin of Sherlocks throat and began kissing, biting, nipping at the white wet skin. Sherlock made an animalistic sound, his free hand flying to Johns hip. His hand gripped the area painfully and he pulled John closer still so that the two men were crotch to crotch. John let out a moan as Sherlock rolled his hips. The detectives erection was obvious beneath the thin cotton of his boxers and the detective ground it against Johns own still overly covered one. The detective captured Johns mouth again with his own, ravenous for his doctor. This continued for several moments, grinding hips, dueling tongues, sweat and heat mingling together. Eventually John managed to pull back and let go of Sherlocks glossy hair.

"Sherlock... Sherlock!" John gasped, trying to catch his breath whilst attempting to push the horny detective back a little. Sherlock pupils were blown and his eyelids drooped languidly from the drug of desire. He gave a lascivious smile and tried to re-capture Johns bruised lips with his own plump and now blood reddened ones. John avoided the attack and dropped his head against Sherlocks shoulder freeing the detectives other hand as he did so. Sherlock stopped what he was attempting to do for a moment and John took his chance. "Sherlock..." the doctor whispered throatily "this is ridiculous..this is NOT helping to get my clothes off really now is it?" the detective gave a slightly stupid grin and ground his hard cock once again against Johns still overly restrained one.

"Hmmm..." Johns new lover mused "well, maybe now you'll agree with me that my room was a far far better idea Dr. Watson." the detective dusted kisses gently across one of Johns soft cheekbones and then relented. "Well you're 'on top' as it were at the moment John, so..." the detective paused and grinned "take me to bed?" the doctor had to chuckle as the detective switched swiftly from being stupidly seductive to beautifully innocent in less than a heartbeat. Somewhat mockingly John put a hand to Sherlock hot sweat slick forehead and tilted his head. He took on a mock doctors tone.

"Patient appears very over-heated, also very over-sexed." Sherlock raised an eyebrow and flipped into mock concern.

"Oh? and what should I do about that doctor?" the detective whispered. John grinned and took Sherlocks hand firmly once again.

"Upstairs, shower, now!" John ordered, suddenly dropping into his old captains voice. Sherlock stiffened slightly, almost as if he wanted to jump to attention and then relaxed again.

"Yes Sir" he purred out, voice dripping sarcasm as John led him finally and without argument up the remaining stairs.


End file.
